MARRIAGE 19 



in song ; that loud sweet wren's song for which the frail 

 atom of a body seems so absurdly inadequate. 



But after a time I noticed a predilection for a tall arum 

 stem which bowed itself close to the glass. Always, when 

 I first entered the conservatory, I could catch a glimpse of 

 him, his singing, pulsing throat outlined against the broad 

 white spathe of scentless flower. Then, with a swift furtive- 

 ness, he would dart elsewhere to sing from a scarlet salvia or 

 the blue plumbago. 



So two days passed, but without apparently any diminu- 

 tion of green fly, since whatever my little visitor did in my 

 absence I never saw him eat anything. He simply sang ; 

 darting hither and thither for a while but always returning 

 to the arum which stood in the furthest and least frequented 

 corner of the conservatory overlooking a young fir plantation. 



The third morning, however, told the secret of the 

 song. More snow had fallen, followed by a slight thaw. 

 Then in the night had come a sudden frost arresting the 

 misty moisture in its upward flight, so that when the sun 

 rose it found a white world decked with diamonds. 



So dazzlingly white ! Even though the frost dimmed the 

 glass it seemed to dominate the warmth, the colour, the per- 

 fume within. Only the little brown bird singing its heart 

 out from the arum stood the test of that marvellous radiance. 

 It held the eye until close beside it, but outside the glass 

 against which its warm breast cuddled, melting the fairy 

 frost film I saw another little brown bird. 



It was the singer's mate — listening, listening to the song 

 of Love and Joy and Hope which, prisoner though he 

 was, he would sing to comfort her as long as Life should 

 last. 



c 2 



